


BBQ

by Ebony_Prodigy



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, BBQ, Couch Sex, DMC 3, DMC3...ish, Dante Being An Ass, Dante Eating Ass, F/M, Gen, Orgasm, Rimming, Slight OOC, Squirting, hook-ups, the good stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 15:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2587268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebony_Prodigy/pseuds/Ebony_Prodigy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady intends to have fun at a BBQ gathering hosted by Trish, except a particular white-haired individual sets it off to a bad start. Can he still turn it around and make it enjoyable for her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	BBQ

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry or any of its characters, nor is any money being made off of this.
> 
> So... I thought of this after I read a couple of Zane books. Specifically, Shame on it All, and Lady ended up being the victim...or is it winner?
> 
> This will be an AU and some will see it as OOC because canon will not put these ideas together otherwise. I think this is a PWP...? Obviously this is my first attempt at something like this so bear with me.
> 
> So...bye.

Summer.

The perfect time for hormones to go on a rampage, and tempers to flare in the sweltering heat.

Mary sat in her bathtub in remembrance of the explosive events from Trish's BBQ gathering, sitting in near-scalding water to soothe her aching muscles. She never thought it possible that she would allow her emotions to drive her decisions and yet here she was, nursing her welts and bruises placed upon her by that scumbag idiot named Dante.

And it all started when he called her out her name.

S-s-S-s-S

“Ah! You dumb bitch! Can you not fucking see?”

The brunette bristled, eyes narrowing in confusion because she knew this creepy white-haired jerk wasn't speaking to her. She glanced over at Lucia, sitting beside her in the passenger seat, searching for reassurance that the oaf didn't mean her. Mary couldn't put her finger on it, but it was something about the “B” word that set her off.

She stuck her head out the window of her car back at him, “Fuck you! You fucking asshole!”

He yelled out, “Lick my nuts!” and flipped her off, pressing hard on the gas then screeched off in his red 1969 COPO Camaro; the personalized license plate reading D KILLAH.

She cursed under her breath as the man pulled off from the light, idiot. “I hate it when people cut me off, then act like it's my fault in traffic. Men make lousy drivers anyway!”

Lucia laughed, trying to soothe her friend's ruffled nerves. “Mary, don't sweat the small issues. Stuff happens, ya know?”

That didn't help much. “I get that, but still. He swerved out in the front of me when it was my turn to go, and had the nerve to call _me_ a bitch! Fuck him!”

“Now that you mention it, the cute ones are always jerks,” she laughed in her French-accented voice. “He was a bit of a looker.” Her red hair spun into a curly half-updo, secured by a red and white bow. Her rich, caramelized skin looked radiant in a red, long-sleeved midriff. White skinny jeans and red peep-toe heels with studded gems on the back showed off her figure. The look pulled together with red earrings and bracelets.

Ever since she moved out here with her mother, Matier, men took a heavy interest in her. While Mary procured some happiness her friend came out of her shy shell, it didn't quell the small green monster from snapping at her on the inside.

“Hmph. Don't you agree it's getting old to think with your crotch? You need to focus with your brain.”

“Now, where is this coming from? We're supposed to have fun today, so get rid of that bitchy attitude.”

Mary didn't bother with a response. Instead, she turned the radio up so loud that the bass vibrated the pedals. Lucia caught on to the hint not to push the subject any further. First the douche in the other car calls her a bitch, then her own friend called her bitchy. What should be a fun day started off on the wrong foot.

Truth is, though she wouldn't admit it, they unknowingly verified her current attitude after a bout of bad luck in the romance department. Many of her dates provided disinterest in a long-term commitment, and when they saw that she stayed “a prude” they left.

One man proved the victor to win over her heart with his vivacious charisma and persuasive charm. A few months passed and things progressed smoothly. He was every bit of a gentleman; attentive, caring and passionate. These traits lulled her insecurities enough to give him her wholesome virtue in response to his loving ways.

Let's just say it was a hard lesson learned not to trust guys with unbridled persuasiveness. She took a vow to make a man work for her love; no more Casanovas would sway their mojo on her.

Mary almost missed her exit from her wandering judgments. Pivoting her thoughts away from her “ex” she concentrated on her driving. There was no use dwelling about the past except to learn from it and advance towards the future. Speaking of forward, perhaps this outing that Trish threw would lift her spirits. Sitting under a shady tree with a frosty hard lemonade would calm her nerves from the problems in her life, temporarily.

They made the last turn before getting to her house, viewing a multitude of parked cars lining the streets. Lucia broke the silence and turned the radio all the way down. “Oh wow, look at all these people. Think I can find someone to bring home to mom?” she teased.

Mary rolled her eyes, not wanting to divulge that she halfway hoped to find a decent guy to talk to, at the very least. She turned the radio back up while one of her favorite songs, “Diet Mountain Dew” by Lana Del Rey, was on. Her voice was dark and classic, like she spoke directly to your soul.

And on a random note, why do people turn down their radios when approaching their destination? Are they trying to creep up on the place and the radio would give away their arrival? Would it really matter since anyone can hear the sound of the engine? Perhaps it's a subconscious thing developed as a habit.

While looking for an available spot, listening to the tune and wondering why Lucia lowered the volume initially, she saw it.

“Fuck! I don't believe this!”

Lucia remained clueless to her outburst. “What's wrong? What happened?”

Mary could only point. Lucia looked in the direction of the pointed finger and saw the problem. A red 1969 COPO Camaro with a tag saying D KILLAH was parked in Trish's driveway. Mary wanted to scream.

She did not drive all the way across town to this cookout, expecting to have a semi-decent time, hanging with like-minded people, eating some couch-friendly food... and other shameless stuff to be in the vicinity with this jerk. Why did this simpleton have to be at the _same_ gathering?

Lucia reached over and offered sympathy by patting her shoulder. “Oh, it's all right. Just ignore him. If you'd like, I'll keep him occupied so he won't bother you.”

She sneered in disgust, lightly jerking her shoulder so Lucia's hand would loosen and started parallel parking in the only slot available. Her Audi coupe secured itself in the cramped space with just enough room to get out.

 _Keep positive and enjoy yourself_ , she told herself as a mantra, taking a breath to steady her nerves. After all, how much of a waste is it to be here unless she put forth some effort?

The women did the female thing after the engine shut off: looked in the mirrors and primped. Mary used her sun visor whilst Lucia utilized the rear view mirror. Compared to her red-haired friend, Mary felt under-dressed. A form-fitting, one-shouldered white blouse and beige short shorts showcased her style. Her pale, ivory gams were complemented by strappy beige wedges.

At first, she hesitated to wear shorts because of the marks on her legs, but she figured it didn't matter. Many people donned stranger clothes when they had blemishes on their skin.

Lip gloss and mascara coupled with small, gold earring hoops decorated her face. The day before she had her eyebrows plucked to accentuate her heterochromatic eyes, ready to supply the evil eye should anyone give her any bullshit. On top of her dark, choppy locks rested aviator sunglasses, just in case the sun beamed too strong on her.

Other than her unique leg scars, she had another slash right on the bridge of her nose. Unlike her peers growing up she was a feminine tomboy, never afraid to tussle with the boys to earn their _respect_ as their equal.

After checking for any lipstick on teeth, smudges, and frizzy hair they got out the car and walked the half-block to Trish's house. The aromas of BBQ ribs and chicken wafted in the breeze, watering their mouths and awakening their grumbling stomachs. Mary curbed her impatience to sink her teeth into something juicy. She skipped breakfast on purpose to starve upon her arrival.

The closer they ventured, the louder the voices grew along with the booming music. They strolled through the front door, her heart racing because she saw that white-haired fucker sitting on the couch... in different clothes?

Her “agitator” sported his hair down and donned a red shirt (when he called her out of her name) while this one had his mane slicked back and he dressed... formally. A gray, long-sleeved button down shirt rolled to his elbows and a sleek, dark blue twill vest with leather embellishments sat on his torso. Navy jeans rested on his lengthy legs and casual boots on his feet. But his most extreme feature, other than his naturally-looking white locks, exuded his nearly albino skin and eyes. Iceberg-tinted hues looked with cool indifference, almost white except his irises were coupled by the tiniest black pupils.

Something about his presence projected this cold hostility. His aura alone stabbed you with a sword if he gazed in your direction. But the asshole who drove that car... was hot-blooded and temperamental and he was stoic and reserved. What had changed?

He sat on Trish's love seat nursing a strong alcohol, ignoring every word some young girl in a frilly, strapless dress said to him; twirling her bleached hair in what was supposed to turn men on. Then again, anyone would harbor annoyance with that high-pitched voice she talked in. Setting that aside, bothered or not, Mary geared to give him a piece of her mind when she saw another man with the same colored hair.

She walked into the backyard after tearing her vision away from the blue enigma. They spotted each other at the same time; both sporting the same I'll-kill-your-fucking-ass expression on their faces. Mary gained the upper hand because, after seeing his car outside, she knew he was there already. His stiffened posture told of his shock. The brunette hoped he would lose consciousness and keel over with embarrassment.

The ass in red stood on the other side of the yard, talking to some bimbo with an obvious breast job and long, fake fingernails. Typical. He would be into women with no class since he was classless himself.

Lucia broke her concentration. “Okay you, I see Trish over there. I'm going to say hi and see how she's doing.”

“All right, I'll be here someplace. I'm about to grab something to drink and sit in the shade.”

“Okay then, see ya.” With a wave she trailed off, using a walk that stole the attention of eager men and envious women staring after her. Mary thought she should have gone over to Trish to say hello since she threw this soiree, but she was on the other side of the yard near that _thing_.

A small group of guys stood by an oak tree and she figured that was where the drinks sat. Men didn't intimidate her. She spent many years learning and memorizing their habits. In the romantic sense, she became a little clumsy in their presence but around everyday chit-chat, she was in control of herself.

When she asked if there was a hard lemonade in the cooler the four men looked over her figure, drinking in her svelte legs and staring at her bi-colored peepers. Withal, it felt kind of nice to be viewed in such a manner. After the incident with her former lover it took a minute to regain her self-confidence, so the appreciative glances didn't go unnoticed. She thanked them with a smile when they handed her a cold bottle, finding a cool shady spot to sit down in a comfy, lounge chair.

The drink moistened her parched throat, settling down her midsection's complaining grumbles. A light breeze swirled in the shade, carrying the aromatic flavors of food sizzling on the grill. Man, if the music wasn't blaring and less people prodded about, this would be the perfect opportunity to take a nap.

If only D KILLAH didn't come in a beeline straight towards her.

Her insides grew hot with rage, incensed in anger because she didn't care to even share the same air to _breathe_ with this fucker. She lowered her shades, preparing to send his ass back to whatever hole he crawled out of. The only reason he navigated over here was to rid of his guilt because he was in the wrong. Before he could open his mouth, she spoke first.

“I'm not in any mood to look at your damn face much less talk to you. It was a near-accident, tempers flared, and the shit is finished. So turn around and walk back over there and that will be that.”

He laughed at her, the jackass. “First of all, like the creature with brains that I am, I came to apologize and introduce myself, but I can see you're grumpy as shit.”

As her irritation flowed, a small part of her admitted he had the looks. Lucia was right. The guy was a stud. He wore a red, skater fitted tank top with a slight scoop neck; a black emblem of a demonic-looking monster impaled on a long sword. Black, vapor jeans fit snug against his legs, and matching combat boots laced his feet. He sported a silver necklace with a large crimson gem in the middle, shining great and bold as if it gleamed in the sun.

And like the other man in the living room, who she assumed as his brother (more like his twin), he had the same shade of hair, eyes and skin. Though her agitator's skin tone shone a bit warmer.

She argued about lowering her guard; to give him a chance to apologize and all that jazz. Then she remembered him calling her a noun she wasn't and flipping her the bird.

“You're right. I'm in a grumpy mood. And as far as introductions, I give two shits as to who you are. You already called me bitch, so that's my name. Fuck off and go back to talking to that manly beast and leave me alone.”

“Okay, whatever _bitch_!” he spewed at her.

She primed to retort something sharp and shoot him in the head if she had a gun, but he walked away too fast. They managed to avoid each other as time passed on, Mary simmering in her annoyance while the man in red had swarms of women around him.

The time came to get in the long line of people rushing to fix a plate once the food was ready. Mary, like many of the other occupants, speed walked to make sure she got the food sizzling from the grill.

The layout of fresh fruit, grilled pineapples and corn, baked potatoes and beans, deviled eggs, macaroni and cheese, potato salad, regular salad, and various meats smothered in rich, spicy BBQ sauce drew everyone to its location. Mary managed not to drool while waiting for her turn, eager to grind her teeth into all that grub... until she felt something breathing down her neck.

The brunette twisted around with her white-haired aggressor-now-turned-stalker standing behind her. As famished as she was, she didn't want to be anywhere near him. She admitted that her actions were immature, however he pressed her hot buttons and she wanted to lash out at him.

In front of her there was a model-esque dark-skinned man, making small chat for most of the time she was there. She told him that she lost her appetite, despite her stomach grumbling otherwise, and that she would catch up with him later.

As Mary walked away she turned around and glared at the red-wearing freak, rolling her bi-colored irises with malice. The food presentation looked _so_ good, but not good enough to be close to him. Besides, after she finished in the powder room the line should be much shorter.

When she went through the living room, that jerk's supposed twin took one glance at her after he finished staring at Lucia, who was in the kitchen helping others bring extra supplies outside, and passively rolled his eyes. He looked like he didn't want to be here, worsened by a similar-looking youth sitting across from him.

In his short-sleeved purple, white and black flannel he eagerly told the rigid man about his nearly completed double revolver. He began to stretch his legs in navy blue, distressed jeans, rambling about firearms and their various purposes.

The man either grew bored with the chat or tired of hearing the eager teen talk.

“I'm glad we are not related, Nero. If we were, I'd abandon you.” His voice poured out smooth, unhurried and deep, with a slight nasal undertone.

“Hey!” the teen cried out, obvious to take insult... that he was interrupted from his monologue. His indignant gesture allowed Mary to see his right arm in a sling and a red glove over his hand. Perhaps he mishandled a firearm and it got the better of him? She had experience with guns before, and obtained quite the collection herself at home. Dammit, she should have brought a gun and shot that bastard with it today.

The brunette reached the bathroom on the first floor. She didn't have to pee, she just wanted a moment to herself without so many people around. Looking in the mirror, the glow her complexion once held dimmed to a dull light.

Her ex had gotten to her more than she realized. It was hard to bounce back from someone who betrayed you, and even harder to trust anyone thereafter.

Mary was _stressed_ , every muscle in her frame seemed tense and if she didn't get rid of it with some sort of rigorous activity, she would explode.

She turned sideways and stared at her physique in the mirror. Perky breasts stood full in front of her, and a firm ass looked round and strong from behind. Toned arms, flat abdominals and lean legs were the product of years of gymnastics and her current classes of kick-boxing. Her hair was modeled after her mother's coiffure but styled to fit her face. And that eye color...

Purple-manicured fingers lifted her glasses and peered into her eyes; the left one a reddish brown and the right in blue, inherited from her father.

People who didn't know any better, or cared less about their insensitivity, told her to seek treatment because it wasn't normal or it didn't look pretty. And those same people didn't look normal either... after her fists met their faces.

After her toes and fingernails looked good to her, she began to leave. She figured the line lessened to a minimum by then and the asshole should be stuffing his face.

She was too busy dusting off some lint from her shirt when she bumped into her stalker after walking out the bathroom. He'd apparently waited to take a leak... regardless that there was more than one bathroom in this place.

He snarled. “You're excused!”

She snarled back. “Next time bring your dog to see.” She walked around him, not interested in sharing conversation.

“Naw, he doesn’t need to be around any more bitches.”

Mary heard the smile in his words, ingesting his cocky tone to boil her insides. She should have just paid him no regard but he irked the shit out of her. Placing one foot behind the other she turned to face him, regarding his expression and stance softening as he stared into her two-toned orbs.

“You don't know me, but if you had half of a brain you'd know that I am not in the mood to be fucked with.” She started to walk away, fingers twitching to connect to his jaw when he grabbed her arm and swung her around.

“Hey, why you have to be like that babe? Listen, I apologize okay?” He brought a hand over his heart in an act to show his sincerity. “I shouldn't have acted so macho towards you this morning or when you got here. I'm really not a bad guy.” He offered a toothy grin, those same ice-blue hues piercing into her own. She didn't neglect to notice how his touch sent sparks through her, and those _not_ belonging to rage.

Mary pushed her glasses down with her free hand after his intense stare got to her. She rolled her eyes. “Can I have my arm back?”

He let go, extending his hand to her. “My name is Dante.”

She really could care less who he was, and she should have just walked away. But her mother raised a _lady_. She took his hand and shook it, but still didn't tell him hers.

“Okay... let's try that again. I'm Dante and you are?”

“... Mary,” she said with reluctance, trying to calm down from the annoyance continuing to grate inside her. She didn't know if those three white-haired males were sporting the surreal 'Goth' look or not, but on them it looked natural. She wasn't going to start talking to him, though.

“Nice to meet you, Mary.”

What purpose did he have in pursuing her? He seemed to enjoy blabbering to all the skanky tarts floating around here, so why was he bothering her? Why is he making such an effort to be in her presence? Nevertheless, he didn't have to come over here for the second time to attempt an apology. Maybe he did mean well and the car altercation was a bad call.

“The same.” She tried to get rid of the tightness in her voice but it stayed there. Her hand pulled away from his, not registering his firm grip keeping her in place. “Well, I'm hungry. Bye.”

With that she walked away. She could feel those pale periwinkles following her every move, boring a hole into her until she turned into the kitchen, with Lucia lying in wait. The red-head was in the middle of grabbing more foil pans when she lifted an accusing eyebrow.

“I guess he's popular with you.”

“Cool it, Lucia. He just apologized. That's it.” She headed towards the food table, now with a much shorter line, leaving Lucia and her light giggles behind.

Mary found her good mood returning after stuffing her face with nearly everything available to eat. She resumed sitting in her shady spot, this time with Trish coming to join her. As the hostess of the party men stared at her meaty breasts and tall, curvy figure, wearing a black, strapless short ruched dress with lighting strikes on the side. And the women gawked at her with her blonde high bun, matching jewelry accessories and black booted heels with gold trimmings. The observation from admirers and secret detractors stayed on her throughout the day, making her the center of attention even when she didn't want to be.

After sharing a few jokes and shopping boutique locations Mary noticed Dante pointing at her. He stood in the middle of a group of girls making hand gestures, as if he were turning a steering wheel.

She couldn't fucking believe it.

This bastard damn near broke his neck to apologize to her, then he turned around and started talking shit about her to other people?

She felt the beginnings of a headache start to form, coupled with the stench of cigarette smoke surrounding her; she floated back to her sour mood.

“Hey Trish, do you mind if I crash for a bit in your basement? I think it's the sun.”

She laughed. “Oh, I thought you wanted to lay down because you were full, but I know you're not.”

“Oh please, I can eat three times as much, but what I had hit the spot.”

“Okay then, make yourself comfortable. Do you need some aspirin?” Trish was a sweetheart... as of now.

Whey they first met there was a bit of a... misunderstanding over the last designer blouse on a rack at a dress shop. Multiple run-ins later at clothing stores had them snubbing each other, and more shopping expeditions conspired to bring them closer on friendlier terms. Since then, like two civilized women, they sorted out their differences and shared the shirt.

“No thanks, I'll be fine.” Mary got up and started walking towards the house. With her ardent glance hiding behind her shades she strutted by his clown-faced harem, keeping her head held high when she looked down on him... despite her shorter stature in comparison to his.

Back in the living room she saw a young woman modestly sitting in Nero's lap, wearing a yellow braided, backless shirt with auburn hair in a long bob touching her shoulders. His left hand drew light circles on her exposed thigh, the white shorts she wore riding up her thighs to un-ladylike displays. In spite of pressing her legs together, Dante's 'twin' gave his seal of disapproval of her attire through down-turned lips.

Those frowning lips called to memory of passionate nips her ex once riddled her body with, leaving her in a desperate, quivering mess to feed her senses. More than once did she envision those lips scouring over every inch of her curves again but those days were long gone; lost in a sea of memories she tried to forget.

Or maybe he used those techniques on the woman Mary found him in bed with.

She made her way to Trish's basement, recently renovated to look like a small apartment. A beige couch set, a tiny but functioning kitchen, a TV, a pool table and a bathroom provided a cozy atmosphere in case someone wanted to sleep over.

A damp, cool feel kissed her skin going over to the CD collection, with rock music taking up the selected majority. Picking out an album by Kings of Leon, she put the CD in the player, set it to random and turned up the volume.

Taking off her shades, Mary sat down on the comfy couch and allowed her intellectual organ to rest, or tried to. Her body roved in a state of jittery shakes and she didn't know why. Well, that and the sight of heavy flirting and pelvic throttling the guests indulged in.

The physical exchanges between the people sparked flints of jealousy. When she saw lips touch she wished it was her own against a man. She wanted to feel strong arms squeezing her petite frame when she saw hugs being given. Her legs ached to wrap around a thick waist as women straddled their boyfriends to use as seats. The memories spawned by these spontaneous gestures ignited a flame within her groin; quelled by sensuous touches to herself but that only lasted until her next fix.

It goes without saying that she was definitely horny.

Whatever her ex did to her physique sexually and physically left her with an appetite she hasn't been able to fill since she quit the relationship. Fingers, sex toys and adult videos didn't plug the void lingering inside of her. Withal, she vowed to never have sex again until she found 'the one'. It felt much better that way; heartbreak is too devastating of a burden to go through again.

Anxiousness started to reel its ugly head when 'Use Somebody' oozed through the speakers, forcing her to take an interest in the pool table to think about something else. She loved playing pool in her spare time. It was one of those things she used to humor herself with when she had nothing better to do.

In her opinion, playing billiards alone was just as much fun as playing with a partner... but she was seriously out of practice. She found difficulty in making the striped balls go into the pockets, but she didn't worry.

Five minutes later she heard the basement door open and close, followed by footsteps coming down the stairs. Mary figured Trish had decided to come check on her. “Trish, I'm knocking a few balls around. Hope you don't mind.”

“Knocking balls, huh? Sounds kinky.”

Son of a bitch. Why is this moron here?

Those jittery shakes morphed into nervous irritance. She didn't know if he irked her on purpose or if he stayed stuck on stupid, but she had enough of him bothering her.

“What _is_ your problem? Now you're following me around!”

He laughed. “Don't flatter yourself. I came to see if you're okay and to find out if I'm the reason you came inside.”

Is this fool serious? This arrogant bastard believed that she was feeling unwell because of him? Oh please, she wouldn't give him that satisfaction even if he dreamed of it.

“Get over yourself. Now who's flattering themselves?” Mary gave him a snide remark. “You have some serious issues.”

“I want to join.” He stood against the pool table, checking out her ass after she bent over to set up her next shot. The scars on her legs piqued his interest further, wondering what type of girl she was to get them.

“No you _can't_. What you _can_ do is leave.”

“Don't mean to burst your bubble, but this isn't your house lady.”

She lined up her position, trying to ignore him but her grip was shaky.

“Secondly, you can't tell me if I can or can't play.” He moved nearby, saddling up beside her. He smelled light traces of a dusky, fruity perfume the nearer he ventured, wanting to have a closer seat to the inviting scent.

“And most of all, I didn't ask for your permission to play.”

Mary hit the red-striped ball with force, watching it roll to the corner of the table and hovered over the pocket, never sinking into the hole.

“Oh, you're tense. That's not going to get you anywhere. You gotta have the ball directly in line with your sight without any tension-”

“Go to hell!” She semi-threw the pool stick at him, pissed off to no end that he deliberately came down here to aggravate her.

Dante blinked at her sudden outburst, mouth agape over her holding onto her pessimistic mood. He didn't know what her problem remained to be, but she better take her bitchy nerves and shove it somewhere long and deep.

And if she wanted help with that, he had something _long_ that he could shove _deep_ inside her.

“Hey, I'm just trying to lighten the mood here,” he said, leaning on the stick watching her semi-stomp into the bathroom, checking to see that she still looked presentable in the mirror. “I think you look decent. You'd look perfect if you lost your attitude.”

He took the pool cue and began to play himself, managing to pocket three solid-colored balls with the cue ball when he heard her walking up to him. Dante figured she was going to admit her faults or to throw a snippy comment his way.

As he started to stand to his full height a hand shot across his face, whipping his head to the right. He cradled his cheek, a smirk gracing his lips while her feisty nature instigated to stir his loins. Women threw themselves at him daily, eager to have his handsome looks ravish their willing bodies, but this defiant woman elicited a craving he needed to bask in. This fire she had drew him to her, like a moth enraptured by the glowing light.

She would have to possess a blazing inferno to knock him out cold, nevertheless. He couldn't be downed by just a few sparks.

“Does that make you feel good? Resorting to violence instead of talking like a normal per-”

She slapped him.

“Or maybe you're not the talkative type,” he said undeterred stepping closer. His vision darkened with enjoyment, sensing an electric charge surge in his mold at the press of soft fingertips, propelled by a powerful hand. “Perhaps you speak through your actions better, 'cause right now I think you need to get something off your chest-”

This time she punched him, trying to retain her self-control before she completely lost it. Though with every hit she landed she felt this warming elation pouring through her, coaxing her to continue her assault. In reality, she was letting go of some of her frustration ever since the break-up.

Mary felt chills run down her spine at her behavior, her conscious coming forth to berate her in view of her un-ladylike conduct. It wasn't his fault that she was angry... and a bit horny, but he didn't help matters any by taunting her. Besides, his profile told her how he enjoyed the rough treatment, eyes glistening with wicked humor like a drunken man who yearned excitement.

She needed to wipe that smirk off his face.

By the time her bicep grew tired from assaulting him her back hit the wall with Dante invading her personal space, his left cheek painted red on his nearly-albino skin. She was breathing in short spurts, trying to clutch to her irritation but it needed a breather, tiredness taking the reigns on her self-control to lash out at this man.

This handsome, annoying-as-fuck, man.

“I hate you.” She looked at him with fire in her sight, mouth set in a scowl that spoke volumes of the damage she would cause when her strength returned.

“Aw, don't be like that babe,” he placed an arm above her head, unfazed by her hard glare and leaned down to her face. “You can't be mad at a guy like me if he wants to make a sad girl smile.” He tried his luck by leaning in and caressing her lips but she grunted in denial, sharply turning her head to the side.

“Why do you care so much if I'm happy or not? Matter of fact, why do you even care?”

“Because somebody with eyes like yours shouldn't have sadness in them.”

“Well too bad, it doesn't concern you how I'm feeling so-”

“And I can tell that sadness wasn't placed there by me. With how fiery you are, I wouldn't think you'd let that bastard put you in this position, wherever he is.”

Her countenance visibly faltered; the wrath behind them desperate to surge forward through her emotions but they remained stilted. Palms grew sweaty under his keen gaze, chewing on the inside of her cheek after the words stung her.

How could he have known? Did someone tell him about her past relationship? No, Lucia and Trish wouldn't betray her like that. They were the only ones who knew about her current dating status. So... what did he want? He seemed genuine in... well she didn't know what his play was but her beliefs rang true. If he wanted a quickie he should find somebody else. She refused to have sex until her lover wanted a future with her.

No matter how damp her panties became from his hovering proximity.

With her eyesight closing in concentration she shook off any hazy feeling his body temperature lulled her with, thinking it was time to leave and go... somewhere. He probably was another charming idiot wanting to fuck and mark her as an addition to his headboard.

“I'm going out,” she muttered, her mismatched peepers twitching with doubt, almost falling for something she was sure, wait... no, what she _didn't_ want to happen should he try anything. “Leave me alone.”

She maneuvered around him, heading up the staircase to go back into the bustle and loud atmosphere when she forgot her shades on the couch, nigh on stomping in a childish gesture when she hopped down the steps. Mary refused to look at him, his hands shoved inside his pockets, eyes cast downwards towards his boots, swaying a little on his heels.

The brunette grabbed them in haste, crimson flushing her cheeks as provocative images flooded her psyche, most involving him on top of her. She shook her head to rid of the ideas, nearly speed-walking to the stairs when _it_ happened.

Dante kissed her.

He quickly leaned in her path, diving to her lips with a tilted head to connect to her. She took two steps back, eyeballs widened as her muscles went rigid. A delicious tremor snaked down her spine, an ignited flame originating from her toes to nestle between her legs.

Mary wanted to scream, swear and pound her fists but she could do neither, frozen in surprise processing his movements. Dante stood tall and strong, his face void of expression, his gaze penetrating into hers with hard intent.

She inhaled a shallow breath, placing her shades on with trembling hands and attempted a second try to walk past him without slapping him senseless. And again he smooched her, this time he grabbed her by her forearm and pressed his peckers to hers with strength, holding her with her palms slapping him in retaliation.

She didn't want to be another name in his little black book, something to parade around as a trophy to his friends. That's what assholes did at functions like this. On the flip side, her senses sharpened as electricity skimmed through her shape. His scent reached her nostrils, strawberries and worn leather pulling her back into the bleary feeling she currently fought against.

How could she get out of this dilemma if he prevented her from leaving, if her limbs refused the will of her brain? All she had to do was scream but her vocals voided the action from commencing. Sheer strength fought the urges to give in, but his aura coupled with her anxious body spelled out her doom.

At the last moment she pulled away from him, hitting the same wall as he closed in on her, iceberg irises laced with hunger as a predator that finally captured its prey after a long chase. He lowered his face to hers, labiums resting on her cheek instead, Mary turning her head to the side again.

Warm air ghosted over her shoulder, having the lightest hint of firm lips rubbing against her collarbone. She denied her skin the full contact it craved, crossing her arms and pressing flat to the wall, avoiding his touch as much as possible.

He enclosed her by placing both forearms on either side of her head, sniffing and breathing every inch of her, letting his nose familiarize her perfume. Though the logical part of her cerebrum lost its function, she attuned to his every action; to the way her form melted at his light touches. The muscles around her throat tensed, refraining from any movement. His focus fixated on hers after he took off her shades.

Dante smiled, looking into her bi-colored eyes with lust and mirth, moving closer to her discreetly, feeling her body tense with the contact. Her orbs tried to rekindle the aggression it once held but it lacked the conviction due to his smug ways and her loins blazing on fire.

“I fucking hate your guts.”

“Yeah? The feeling's mutual.”

She beheld a look of trepidation, instinct trying to function between kneeing him in the groin and making his knee rub against her groin when he moved her hands. The lapse in mental reasoning allowed him to latch onto the side of her throat, causing her to flinch under his touch, taking a second as a shiver trailed down her back. Her fingertips pushed against his chest as his snaked around her hips, kneading and rubbing with pressure, continuing to greedily suckle on.

Her oppositional force proved ineffective, fingers trembling while he added teeth to his necking, cradling her pulse and flicking his tongue along her taut skin. Waves of delight traveled its way to her clitoris, inducing the bundle of nerves to jump each time he stroked harder; roaming over the same spot with increased vigor.

With her shades still in his hand he picked her up under her thighs, moving over to the edge of the pool table without breaking contact. A harsh nip made her gasp, Dante pulling away to stare straight into her eyes, letting go of her sunglasses after he placed his palms on either side of her hips.

Mary prided herself with having standards. In high school, girls glorified their trysts as a liberating faction of some sort, reveling in how popular of a status they could achieve to have boys lust after them. She believed they were pathetic, taking value in herself by placing her homework and hobbies first.

In this time however, her pride waged war with her practices, telling her to let go of her hard-driven ways and enjoy this moment. Logic intervened when irrational proclivities emerged, but when he scooted her flush against his torso, it shut down.

Her closed lids protected her from reality, the lapse in judgment made this... asshole of an enigma continue his ministrations.

Both knew that she surrendered herself to him; her body willingly but her mind had trouble piecing together simple intuition.

“I need to see you smile more babe,” he nearly moaned, trailing his lips back and forth to the sensitive spot on her throat. He pulled on the thin flesh with his teeth, licking over the indentation with gentle caresses. Broken moans echoed in vain to stay hidden but they escaped, using her fingers to dig inside his shoulders and arms to release the pressure building... and to silence his cocky attitude.

He must have caught on to her game, laughing at her attempt. “Scratch and pull me all you want, but you'll be smiling for me in the end.”

“Wha... fat chance you idi-”

He cupped her chin in his hands and kissed her, swallowing her becoming insult instead to enrapture her lips. Their scents swirled in each other's noses, Mary loosening her tight eyelids and Dante taking to gnawing on her bottom lip, lightly squeezing her thighs to sync in with the kiss. The taste of tangy BBQ sauce and traces of lemon danced along his mouth, the red one consuming the flavors that mingled with her own musky perfume and he wanted _more_.

So far she wasn't relaxed all the way. He could tell she bowed under her contemplation, nervousness twitching through her figure to prevent her from enjoying herself fully. He had to get rid of it. Fast.

Without warning he pulled her off the table, “I Want You” flowing through the speakers after he turned her around, trapping her against him and the hard ledge of the billiards table. He directed the upper half of her torso to twist, resuming to lock lips from behind.

Dante thrusted his slick muscle in between her lips, watching her eyelids fly open and hearing her mouth utter a startled gasp. He lightly held her wet muscle in between his teeth, staring at her misty expression filled with doubt. Moving his hands down her shirt he firmly grasped each breast, kneading the perky mounds as her silent exhales increased in volume. One hand moved to her chin while the other snaked beneath her shorts, causing the reaction he was only happy to oblige in.

He trapped her tongue inside his mouth, bobbing and tilting his head while sucking on her coiling flicker, using his other hand to rub her clit protected by her panties. Mary's legs felt like jelly, closing her stilts as the heightened sensation muddled her thoughts, eyeballs rolling in the back of her skull, Dante swallowing her grunts in lustful glee.

He played with the hardened nerve, extracting the wetness from her opening to coat her hot button with different strokes. Unknowingly she ground on him, trying to escape from his double assault, rubbing against his engorged flesh swelling in his pants. Her muffled cries rose in depth, feeling a succulent rush rising heavy in her belly, her knees all but giving out.

Upon sensing her climax boiling over he withdrew his hands, wrapping them around her waist as she collapsed onto the pool table, reflexively moving the billiards from under her.

Jackass. He did that on purpose.

Her breathing returned with her frustration growing, the denial of a full release instructing her to punch him until he bled. It was bad enough to be down here in the midst of making out with this jerk, but he found it a grand time to tease. Perhaps this conveyed a sign she shouldn't be doing this. She held her reservations since he made the first move, and this pause could give her a moment to come to her senses.

If only he wasn't already moving on to the lower half of her backside.

With difficulty, she reclaimed her talking voice again, trying to look over shoulder at his descending form.

“Wait... stop. I can't... Don't-”

“Can't talk. Horny.” Dante muttered, in the midst of lifting her shirt to have better access to her skin. He detected light traces of a peachy scent nibbling her back, probably from the body wash she soaped her self with.

“What are you―hey!”

The brunette crossed her legs in alarm, arms reaching behind her as Dante grabbed the insides of her shorts and panties, bringing them down to her lower thighs. The cool, damp air reached her exposed genitals, Mary rising from her downed position, but a strong forearm slung over the small of her back prevented her from moving.

She wasn't necessarily... eager to fuck, given the setting and where they were, but this was too much to endure. A part of her darkly wished he pounded into her until she couldn't think, to momentarily purge the bullshit her ex brought about. And the other half raged in defiance, offended that he wanted to feel her in such an intimate manner.

Footsteps above her echoed, probably from someone headed towards the bathroom. The prospect of getting caught dropped her heart to her stomach, seeing how the pool table was aligned with the stairs; if anyone opened the basement they could see them. A second set of footsteps joined the first, roving in the hallway edging closer to the door.

Her hazy thirst gradually lessened, preparing to kick Dante away from her and make herself decent when he kissed her damp folds, drawing a spark that jolted through her. Her glossy vulva made him want to take her in the most demanding way, to taste every inch of her until she yielded to her pleasure.

“Asshole!” she whispered in harsh shock, balling her fists to keep her returning excitement and lingering exposure from above at bay.

“... You're the boss, lady.”

He sank to his knees.

“Wait...― oh!”

He licked her tiny rosebud in one slow fell swoop, Mary biting her wrist to keep her vocals silent after her surprised outburst, Dante ravishing her like a starved wolf. Naturally her cheeks clenched at the intrusive organ, never having someone touch her in a spot so secretive, so taboo.

Her memory didn't forget about the people above, suddenly motionless, seeming to listen in to the noises in the basement. The last thing she wanted was to be the talk of gossip―being fucked by her agitator at the BBQ, if discovered. However, any source of logic left after his mouth fully covered her anus, adding the teasing pressure of teeth, his wet muscle making coiling swirls, edging closer to her entrance.

The odd sensation made her jump, making an effort to pull away but he held onto her. Some rational part of her tackled to bring her mental capabilities back, faintly registering the size of his slippery appendix as it licked and fondled the whole of her.

Thick fingers roved their way to play with her pussy, using the secretions from her moist canal to glaze her swollen bulb. His thumb circled around her vaginal opening, gently probing past the clenched muscles then withdrawing while his middle knuckle played havoc with her small nub of nerves.

Her cracked, hitched breathing escalated in tune with “Closer” coming out of the speakers, adding an intricate depth to the song. His fingers rubbed and flicked in line with the drums while his slow licks accompanied the guitar.

A heavy heat rumbled in her center, tightening muscles urging her to curl in on herself. The varying speeds he pleasured her with made her left hand reach behind and lock in his hair, using the other to anchor herself to the table.

Pale legs jerked and shook as a see-saw of surging waves billowed in her apex, striving to keep her heightened whimpers from rising above the song. Bent knees sought to seek the floor, to lessen the growing spikes assaulting her mound yet strong arms stopped her.

With a final stroke her orgasm ran through her, nails from both hands digging hard into their contacts. Bi-colored irises rolled in shaking bliss with her convulsing clitoris, milky-white trails coating his fingers, Dante extending her breathy gratification. Her squeals rose in pitch with Dante resuming his meal, letting her hisses swell his prick with satisfaction.

She calmed from her sporadic twitches a full minute later, aided by his calming kisses to her inner thighs and back, Mary released his hair to balance herself on the pool table. Whatever tension she bowed under departed from her build, feeling lax and calm like having a thorough massage.

And she kinda did have one―half of one, in the form of a wicked, slinky tongue deleting her stresses.

“I better see a smile on that pretty face or I'll fuck it on there, babe.”

Just like that her defiant nature snuck in, melting away the lethargic sensation his movements created. With her physique cooling down she was reminded of her exposed genitalia, now with an odd mixture of warm saliva chilled by the breeze blowing across it.

“You're still calling me babe?” she remarked with a fire rising in her words, albeit hoarsely.

“I just finished munching your ass and I can't call you endearments?”

“Hell no.” She turned around on shaky legs, her thighs crossed to hide her vanity. If she moved her arms off the table she was sure to fall down; muscles not ready to support her weight.

“Well, shit. I guess I have to try harder then.” He brought his drenched thumb to his lips, lightly tracing the curve of it until he clasped it in his mouth, sliding the digit out slowly while gazing straight at her.

Dante noted her flushed cheeks and rosy lips. Her dark hair accentuated the frame of her face, giving her this innocent, girlish appearance concealing this sexy monster urging him to devour her some more.

The appetite in his eyes spoke volumes of his needs, of his yearning to take her in the most primal of ways. Nothing else mattered to him in this moment, the wanting in his body language was desperate. It was like he was a dope fiend craving a starving fix, and that fix was Mary.

Her fascination with him enjoying her velvet wetness left her open, Dante hoisting her to sit over on the edge of the couch. Between them an unspoken passion surged, a magnet urging both to satiate the attraction threatening to erupt.

Could she give in to her cravings to let go of her standards and succumb to her urges, just this once? Can she allow herself the pleasures she vowed to give to 'the one'? She had never done this before, setting aside her morals and beliefs to submit to her impulses.

But by the _gods_ her soul felt alive. The tingles coursing through her bloodstream invigorated her senses; more pleasing than firing gun rounds, masturbation, better than chocolate cake at night. He tended to her physique like her ex―no... _better_ than he did. She felt desired and sensuous, something she believed was silly to fret over but here she was. Inside her cerebrum vice and virtue waged battle, vice gaining a stronger hold with him gently nudging her over the ledge.

Mary moved with light scoots to the other end of the couch with Dante staying close on her, eyes hungry with his hands snaking to the hem of her shorts.

“I don't see a smile on that face,” he teased, the tips of his fingers ghosting over the smooth planes of her tummy. His pupils shifted, Dante's frame hovering an inch above hers, intensely looking down her breasts akin to a predator about to swallow their prey, bending her legs at the knees. The glare she pin-pointed him with lessened, his white-blue gaze lingering over her curves.

Dante's lips hovered above her chest, carefully pushing her shorts and panties over the slope of her bent legs, his hot breath trailing upwards until he stopped to nibble along the edge of her jaw line. His hands unbuttoned his jeans, letting his bloated penis bobble free to lay against her stomach, rubbing on her thin tuft of hair.

The brunette flinched at the contact, sobering up at the feel of his heavy strength on her. The light, frantic look she gave spoke in her place since she couldn't form words. Her muscles shivered, not at what would come but that there was no turning back. He was that high-fat dessert you secretly indulged in when on a diet: bad for the cause, yet delicious to the taste buds. She made sorry work to hide her throaty pants, her heart thumping loud enough to let him know of her state.

“I'm serious. I'm not leaving you alone until you give me what I want.” He noticed her looking off to the side, her fingernails lightly tapping his bicep as hesitation roved in her face. She wasn't fooling anyone though, it didn't take much to have her feisty nature run its course again. “Go ahead,” he moved to lick her ear lobe, “Touch it.”

There was a flutter in her belly at his words, feeling her knees tremble after his fingers curled around her right wrist, guiding her hand to enclose around his erection. A cold shudder traveled through her spine, a noticeable exhale escaping his lips.

Feeling a rush of boldness fuel her, her vision trailed lower to see his well-endowed prick resting on her, swelled beyond normal, Mary marveling at the sight. He was bigger than her ex-beau, girth and length wise. Perhaps it's the reason he was so arrogant. Mostly, men who boasted and bragged like him carried smaller packages, but it seems he proved his to the better.

She wanted to shoot him for his macho behavior, nevertheless.

He moved her fingers up and down his cock, breath hitching in his throat when a blazing sensation inflamed his loins. Through lidded eyes he looked at her, a mixture of nervousness and curiosity splaying across her features. Dante laughed in silence, storing her expression into his locker of memories.

“That's one helluva look you got,” he gloated, pride elevating in his voice guiding her grip, applying more pressure nearing the tip. “Is it too much for you to handle?”

“Are you always this damn arrogant?” Her indignation returned, miffed that he threw around his masculinity as if it was an indicator to his greatness.

Ah, you're too fun, babe.“You tell me. Do you think I'm a guy who bullshits?”

...Well, she had to give him some credit. He was an honest person but therein lied the problem. Was he honest in the sense of him getting what he wanted out of someone or he just let his intentions be known upfront, disregarding of whom?

On one side, he expelled his cocky and arrogant ways like a second skin. He could have bragged about his sexual conquest over her but he didn't. Instead, he exercised his tender control and passionate dominance without berating her, silencing her doubts still seeking to plague her thoughts.

Damn this charming bastard.

“I'm gonna take that as a yes.”

“There you go flattering yourself...” An evil sheen sparkled in her blue eye, gripping his length with both hands with careful scrutiny, lightly tugging it to her, minding how his chest sharply rose and fell.

In truth, she needed to lessen the jittery vibes creeping back into her, and what better way to do that than to deflate his ego a little. “... when I haven't given you an answer yet.”

“What for? I can clearly see it on your face-”

“I've got better toys at home.”

A partial-lie. She had two toys that were quite small, and very handy when her needs arose but he didn't need to know that. As expected, he didn't prepare for a response, his brows narrowed and mouth agape for her answer shocked him.

Got you, you bastard.

She brought a finger to her mouth to lightly bite on it, a devious smirk gracing her features in oppressing his bravado. From various talks she heard from people, men morphed into fragile creatures when their dicks are in the spotlight. Any attacks on its size or appearance made them lash out or lowered their confidence. She expected him to act the same but it only managed to fuel his desire, his prick beginning to twitch and throb in her hand.

“Hmph, nice try lady. Let me give you a sample then.”

Dante pulled her garments until they were off her legs, pushing his pants lower until they settled down his knees. He yanked his shirt over his head to rest on his shoulders, the bold red gem in his necklace shined with an ethereal glow.

Mary's brain fell out her ass when her eyes landed upon his abs, chiseled and sculpted to perfection. Not an ounce of fat showed itself, his muscles appearing hard and defined; cut from marble, and it all led to that pronounced V-shape she wanted to reach out and trace with her fingertips but she quieted her impulses. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a square, gold package, ripping it open with his teeth.

Common sense gave another chance to surface, telling her to stop this now before she regretted it. Her inner voice flooded her judgment with a plethora of negative questions. Why did he have a condom on hand? What's going to happen after they finished? Would he respect her? Will he run off to his friends and spill everything? She supposed he was at least responsible in that he brought protection, but there was hesitation bubbling within her. The more she pondered her indecision the more she wavered, leaving an impression of insecurity settling in the pit of her stomach.

“Ahh...” a hard groan ripped from inside her throat, heterochromatic eyes widening for her entire lower half shook from the invasion. Her fingernails immediately found his shoulder, digging into the strong flesh, Dante pushing his length in then out with a look of blissful focus.

He waited a moment before he pressed back in deeper, seeing her brows furrow and her shuddering moans escalate. She was very tight, like she never had a dick this big. Either that or her former boyfriend wasn't adequate in that department. As much as he wanted to ram himself into her, he took his time to concentrate.

What is he? Seven inches? Nine? Bigger? She couldn't tell.

Mary drew her knees in to close them but he held her legs open. The pinching sensation continued with him pulling in and out, in and out to the point where she had to grind her teeth. She noticed half-crescent marks leaving red imprints on his shoulder. Supposedly, the slow movements were made to accustom herself to his size but it didn't help. There would be no _smiling_ after this, she was sure of it.

Once fully inside, with Mary pushing at his taut abs, he leaned down to her ear to deliver a dark promise, kissing the cleavage peeking out of her top on the way over.

“I'll make you feel so good, girl. You won't stop smiling for weeks.”

Still joined he cradled her back, lifting her up then laying back on the couch with her straddling him, which strengthened her discomfort. He seemed to penetrate deeper into her clenched cavern in this position to the point where it pained her to mount him.

Has it been that long since she felt something so filling inside her? Wait... of course it has. Her ex-beau was nowhere near this thick and her toys paled in comparison to its weight, even when flaccid. A small part of her was thankful that he went slow, but this was too much for her to take in.

Notwithstanding, she couldn't let him flaunt his cocky demeanor at her. If she was horny beyond desperation he would probably make her beg for it, only she kept enough sass of her own to divert his attention away from asking, or maybe he presumed she would return the favor later.

On the contrary, he paid diligence to her fervor. Normally the guy would either ask or tell the girl to blow him off but he did no such thing. Perhaps he really made an effort to see her flash her teeth in something other than annoyance.

“Shit... I can't... Put me do― nnngh!”

He rolled his hips upwards, effectively quieting her becoming protest. One hand snaked to the back of her hair, the other holding a strong grip on her hip. His mouth nipped along her collar bone, slowly thrusting into her, feeling her vaginal walls stretch to accommodate his prick.

With each gentle stroke he savored her breathless gasps, using his hand on her hip to knead the firm muscle of her backside. Her hands wrapped around his neck, teeth quick to bite into his throat's juncture to expel her pleasure without encouraging him too much with her moans.

Her awareness bloomed to forget about everything; the people upstairs, 'Sex on Fire' blaring through the speakers, her inner conscious... nothing occupied her thoughts except the touch of him caressing her warmth. Maybe it wasn't so bad to give no fucks to caring now and then, to let go of any problems plaguing her days and doing something for her.

She convinced herself that another man wouldn't sample her pussy until he proved himself as a capable lover and yet it didn't hold up, letting this asshole taste the full of her. Mary _told_ herself she wasn't like those broads out there who needed sex to feel important, and she didn't. But this horny lust she fell under had to be rid of so she could think with a clear head again.

It's funny how ideals and goals crumble when caution is thrown to the air.

Dante listened to her moans with eager intent, gauging which move to increase her responsiveness. Deep, long strokes were followed by lengthy mewls. A quick thrust garnered him a breathy yelp. A roll of the hips made her bite him.

He penetrated her with random motions, ready to start fucking her wildly with the sounds she belted but she wasn't set at the moment, still not accustomed to his girth. He brought this thumb to his mouth and plunked it in, soon reaching down to her apex, rubbing her engorged, swelled nerve.

“Dante!” Her jaw fell open, grunts and groans increasing after his thumb stroked her swollen bulb without mercy. Her howls matched with Kasey's singing vocals, eyeballs rolling upwards as another delicious heat simmered in her belly. He used the hand in her hair to slightly speed up his pelvic thrusting, feeling her walls beginning to convulse erratically around his cock. He knew he wouldn't last much longer, not with the way she said his name.

Mindful of his need to bust a nut, a smile would be fucked on that face even if she milked him dry.

“Do you still hate me?” he growled in passion, releasing his assault on her clit. Thick fingers grabbed onto her shoulders from the back, gaining momentum to help her reach her boiling point. With forceful gentleness he grasped her jaw and brought her face to his, seeing her hungry and feline profile contorted into dazed exhilaration, struggling to answer his question with faltering focus.

“... Yes,” she muttered between shaky breaths.

He increased his speed.

”Do you still hate me?” he asked again, staring straight into her darkened eyes.

“Yes...” she mewled, legs shaking and ready to lose control, along with this warm vibration extending far down within her pussy, clawing for its climatic release.

Each drive sent into her silky passageway hitched her breath. Dante rubbed against the rough surface of her G-spot, lightly wincing over clawing him in heightened bliss, enthralled by the pleasure he pumped into her. Women boasted about how long a dick should be to reach ecstasy when it was really about the width. Knocking _out_ those snug walls changed the girls into stalkers if they've been dickmatized.

He was no better off himself, holding onto his orgasm for all its worth. “Do you... still hate me?” he gnawed on her bottom lip, hand moving to her ass to palm the jiggly muscle.

“YES!... yes, yes, yes, yes, ye-” Spasms flooded through her as her lids shut tightly, Dante covering his mouth over hers to swallow her screams of delight. The brunette's breaths became shallow and longer, to the point where it almost ran out, followed by a high-pitched mewl that could be heard throughout the house. Her hands found their way into his hair, pulling and yanking, her frame convulsing and trembling while he still pumped into her.

Mary's taut muscles wanted to snap his cock in two, her snug tunnel clutching around him without restraint. He picked up on her lethargic weight, slowing his pace, nuzzling and licking her neck, his palms roaming her back in a comforting gesture. His ego swelled at making her come hard.

So hard she didn't notice the warm liquid that poured out between her legs, spraying onto his abdomen.

“What a sexy little lady you are,” he gritted, calming his pace, swimming on the verge of exploding himself. But... he was far from finished with her; he had to keep his promise, after all. “Don't think I'm done with you. You still owe me something.”

Cradling her thighs he shifted to roll on top of her when she stopped him, twitching like a junkie who hasn't had a fix in a while, only for her it was the opposite. She cradled his jaw bones, ragged exhales sending wisps of air across his face. Her slender fingers moved the damp bangs from his forehead, seeing the ravenous lust so vibrant from within.

In that moment there was no outward arrogance or traces of gloating, just her stalker reveling in his glorification in silence, fixating on her messy mane and bruised lips. Though there was this underlying smug look he burned into her, perhaps expecting her to follow along and indulge in his one wish he wanted her to uphold.

“I see this gleam in your eye, but it needs to be transferred to your lips.” To drive his point forward he bit her labiums, pushing into her drenched cave all the way to the hilt.

“You ...d-don't quit do you,” she said breathless, his thick organ staying hard and needy for her. He hardly broke into a sweat while it seemed that she was on fire, noticing the cool basement air didn't affect her.

“I'm a man of my word. I stick by what I say.” He grinned with a glare in his irises.

“You damn cocky devil. If I had a dollar for every time your arrogance popped up-”

“I'd be one penniless bastard, then.”

She closed her eyelids, the ends of her mouth curving upwards to give him what he needed to see. When he glimpsed her smile earlier today he thought it was gorgeous on her, but it wasn't genuine. Her smile looked fake because it didn't reach her eyes, concealing the internal anger behind them. Now that her doubts and aggravation waned, whatever they were, she should be flashing those pearly whites with merriment.

“Dante! Are you down there you asshole!”

The anxious, fuzzy feeling they created was cut like a knife through warm butter, shattering the sensual mood he aimed to bask in some more. The instant she heard the voice she hopped off him with a moist plop, seeing how messy of an orgasm she had, cheeks growing red with embarrassment. Dante's dick immediately softened, knowing that this moment was forever ruined thanks to that cock-blocking _runt_.

Unlike most people he would have found humor at being caught naked, preferably giving them an open view of him ramming into her. He ripped the condom off in anger, reaching for something off the floor. Quick fingers fastened his pants and fixed his shirt. The look on his face showed thorough irritance, scrunched lips formed into a heavy sneer.

“Are you down there, stupid, answer me!”

Mary was a trembling, sweaty mess searching for her clothes. Her worst fear of discovery taking precedence over all else. She grabbed her shorts but her underwear was missing, making her heart thrum wildly. She was about to ask him of their location when he took off to the sound of feet coming down the stairs, sprinting with an almost inhuman speed to the person interrupting their session.

Dante seemed heavily displeased, rage etched into his expression with murderous intent. The boy with the arm brace let out a small yell when he indeed came down the first few steps, retreating in haste after he saw the 'death on legs' come after him.

He closed the basement door after him, leaving Mary with a much needed breather. Sustaining her flustered nerves with adrenaline beating through her veins she quickly ran to the bathroom. After she threw on her bottoms, she looked at herself in the mirror.

Rosy cheeks, plump lips and flushed skin met her sight; anyone who walked past her could see her 'just-fucked' look. There were becoming splotches appearing on her skin, dark blue and green bruises over the expanse of her neck. She smoothed her palms over her frazzled mane, trying to finger it back into shape and its original style.

She heard the door open, hoping to hell that it wasn't Dante when a feminine voice called to her. “You okay down there, Mary?”

Opening the bathroom door she responded, “I'm fine Trish, thanks. I'll be up in a minute!”

“All right. Take your time, hun” The door closed shortly after.

The brunette wiped the sweat off of her with the paper towel in the bathroom, fixing her clothes as best she could. There were no stains on her shirt but she couldn't say the same for the couch. Though a dark gray in color, she noticed their fluids staining the side of the cushions.

The adrenaline declined, allowing another sensation to ebb to the surface; the numbing thrum between her legs. Images ripe with their connection bombarded her head, making her body temperature rise at the recent memories, making her wet again just thinking on it.

A sly grin threatened to plant itself on her face, Mary preventing the sides of her mouth from tugging upwards. Her thighs crossed over each other, her clit making involuntary jumps, recalling the way he ate her, roving her conscious in a murky haze surely to prevent logic from resurfacing.

She needed to leave, now.

When she stepped out the bathroom she smelled their exotic pheromones swirling in the atmosphere, prompting her to spray the air freshener around the basement and moving a pillow over the noticeable spot before exiting.

No one seemed to be in the house so she made a clean break for her escape. When she walked to the living room, nobody was there except for Dante's brother (did he sit there this whole time?) and Lucia chatting with Trish.

“Leaving so soon?” Trish said with a smile in her voice. The dark-haired woman would be naïve to think that the blonde didn't know what had happened. Shit.

“Is there any food left?” Mary tried to act nonchalant, lightly balling her fists to keep them from shaking, her vagina twitching with each inhale she took.

“Barely. People sure came here with empty stomachs.”

“Yup, then it's time we headed out.”

“Well, you two be careful out there, now. I'm going to go find Dante, he looked like he was ready to kill Nero.” She gave the two women hugs, trotting off outside to entertain the other guests.

The stoic twin looked in her direction and immediately Mary sensed he knew she did something naughty. His face remained devoid of expression but she could see the restrained control he had to not give his showcase of disapproval.

Without looking his way again she grabbed Lucia by the arm and told her it was time to leave. The red-head didn't put up a fight, quickly grabbing the foiled-covered plates of food off the counter and headed after her, giving a final glance at the man who stared at her every moment she walked into the house.

About half way to the car she came under attack by Lucia's inquiries, side-stepping the questions to her whereabouts and instead asking why that weirdo in blue fixed his sight on her for the whole day. She covered up her uneven gait, teeth lightly gnashing to keep her legs from trembling to her car, barely able to walk in her wedges. Mary managed to refuse to comment on Lucia's baiting questions all the while cranking up the stereo while adjusting to her seat, feeling a gush of warm liquid seep into her shorts.

S-s-S-s-S

Her doorbell rang, forcing her to finish her bath early before she could fully enjoy herself. She would have ignored it if it wasn't for the person continuing to press the ringer. Throwing a robe on she rushed downstairs to the uninvited guest, gearing to curse them out when she looked through the door hole and gasped.

Mind going blank she unlocked and opened the door, turning on the porch light to gawk into the face of Dante, sporting a grin that would make a cat hiss.

“You forgot these.” He held out her sunglasses and her panties, dressed in a plain red leather jacket, a white shirt and some black jeans.

Mary couldn't move to speak, stunned that he had the _nerve_ to show up on her porch and present her belongings. Memories flooded the expanse of her visual memory as his scent wafted to her, growing peeved that her body ached to have his touch roam over her curves.

But there was no need for that. A... defect in her rationale made her act on her impulses, and since there didn't habit a demand to indulge in risque behavior her fleshy mold was in no position to send out signals.

In her flustered state she must have forgotten about her shades, too shaken with fear at the notion of getting caught to remember she had them. It would seem that he took her underwear to relish in his feat. Pervert.

And what in the hell is wrong with Trish? Regardless if she knew that they fucked in her basement or not she had no right to give out her information. What if she ended up missing or worse?

Oh, there was a cold ball of some tasteless sensation forming in her gut, pieces of shame harrowing her thoughts at the possibility of something bad happening to her thanks to the blonde's big mouth. “I'm going to kill Trish, giving out-”

“Trish had no choice but to,” Dante boasted.

“And why is that?” she retorted, crossing her arms at his devil-may-care attitude.

“I opened up a mercenary business and she works for me. I'm her boss.”

 _Well I'll be damned_. _I wonder if I can apply and shoot shit up, namely you_. “Who found them?”

“I did. I thought you'd still be there. Imagine my face when I saw you left-”

“There was no reason for me to stay.” She hugged the robe around her frame, the cold wind from the breeze freezing the droplets on her legs in the crisp, night air. What exactly is his motive for coming all the way over here? She hoped he wasn't interested in resuming what went on in the basement for she was far past that... despite the rising urges in her groin.

“Oh really?” He stepped closer to her, those ice-blue pupils darkening to dispute her words, to challenge her to deny what her pussy should be pining for. “Well if you think so you're gonna have to call the cops. You still owe me something and I'm not leaving until I get it.”

His insinuative tone hardened her nipples against her will. If they were able to detach from her skin they would float towards his hands to be kneaded and caressed again. However her mind wasn't a muddled mess so she prevailed her sanity to _not_ fall for his touch. And why in the hell is he being so smug?

“Well, I don't need to call them. I have a whole armory at my disposal. Shall I shoot you in the head until you get the message?” The side of her mouth cricked up, her bi-colored optics displayed an evil gleam, showcasing to Dante that she could be persuasive too.

“What is it with you women always threatening to kill me?” He held his hands up in a surrendering gesture, then added as an afterthought, “So I take it you gals don't like compliments 'cause that's usually when it happens.”

Mary rolled her eyes, snickering over remembering her earlier image of popping him in the skull. She almost blossomed into a full smile at the memory of him lying on the floor with his brains scattered on the walls.

Almost.

When she looked upon him again he had that hungry look, savoring her with his piercing stare, undressing her with his gaze. That familiar electric energy crept back in, persuading her into letting her feel his fingers, scratch his skin, taste his scent; the lustful attraction careening her curves towards him. But... the only way he's touching her again is through her memories, so tough shit for him.

“Well, thanks for being the delivery boy, and tell Trish I''ll― wait!

Lightly scarred, pale legs turned into putty after he rushed through the door, picking her up and wrapping her stilts around his strong waist. Her arms mechanically encircled his neck, mind shutting down as that devious tongue lapped at her throat with quick efficiency, chills running through her spine; that familiar sensation _spiked_.

She geared to protest his ministrations when her brain short-circuited. Her desire claimed victory over her common sense.

“Now, let's see about these toys of yours,” he growled in mirth, gnawing with ardor on her throat.

The front door slowly closed, Dante carrying her up the stairs, drawing moans from deep within her chest, the robe falling open to expose her flushed skin as the lock latched into place.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I had so much fun writing this. If I wrote this all serious-like I probably would have written it way worse than this. :D
> 
> I wrote the teenage-ish version on Fanfiction and took nearly half of the story out. People are flagging people down on there even if they have an M-rated story just talking about nipples. -_-So on here, I can flesh out my writing a bit more and not have to worry about anyone complaining about my explicit work because they should be old enough to read it.
> 
> I have been reading a slew of books about werewolves, vampires, witches, etc and the authors leave much to be desired in terms of fleshing out a love scene. Like they build up so much time about the touches and kisses and when it gets to the groovy part, it's like three sentences describing everything and it falls...flat. So I took my hand at it and this is what popped out.


End file.
